


Sacramentum

by Jen Hall (Greenlady)



Series: The Seidhrman [9]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-23
Updated: 2010-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Jen%20Hall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky and Hutch get married -- properly this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacramentum

Sacramentum

 

Starsky threw his opponent across the room. She rolled, and bounced up on her feet again. 'Very good, Honoured Father,' she said. 'Now, do that to Darius.'

Darius was considerably larger than Mariko. In fact, he was also considerably larger than Starsky.

'You make it sound simple, Honoured Daughter,' said Starsky.

'Forgive me, Honoured Father, but it is simple. It is the same principle. A matter of weight and balance. Not size, or strength. If I can do it, so can you.' Mariko demonstrated that she could do it, though everyone in the room already knew she could. She grabbed Darius, without warning, and threw him several feet across the floor. Darius bounced up, though not as gracefully as Mariko had done it.

'You see?' Mariko continued. 'You must practise. You begin with someone small. You begin with someone in the class, who co-operates. Then, if you practise long enough, you can throw someone larger than yourself, who is fighting back. For example, Honoured Father, as I keep pointing out, you could practise with my other Honoured Father. He is slightly larger than you are.'

The other members of the class smiled. Darius chuckled. Everyone knew that Hutch had been arguing this very point with Starsky for some time.

'I can't, Mariko,' said Starsky. 'I can't throw the mother of my son around the room. Even if he co-operates. Even in fun. Even if he is in male form. He is the mother of my son.'

'I know, Honoured Father. Then, you should find someone else to exercise with, outside of class. All of you should be practising more,' she scolded. Her students looked guilty, and shuffled their feet. 'Well,' she said. 'Let us practise now, at least.'

Starsky sighed.

An hour later, after he managed to toss Darius several feet, and uphold the honour of his gender, he was practising with the punching bags. That was his excuse, at least. If he were honest with himself, it just felt good to hit something. And kick it. And hit it again. And again. The only thing was, the punching bag didn't squeal. It didn't bleed, and suffer, and then die.

Starsky kicked the bag too hard, and swore.

'I think you have defeated your opponent, Honoured Father,' said Mariko, from behind him.

'Have I, Honoured Daughter? I disagree. I had the chance. Several chances, in fact. But I let them slip by. Not a safe thing to do, in war.'

'If I might be allowed to comment, Honoured Father, in my opinion, you had no choice. How could you have acted otherwise?'

'How could I have acted otherwise? Mariko, if I might be allowed to disagree, I could easily have acted otherwise. He handed me the knife. He offered his life in payment for Hutch's death. And I turned it down, when I should have taken it. But even before, when he attacked my husband -- my wife who was pregnant with my son -- I had the right to demand his life in payment. But I didn't. He still lives. That is my fault.'

'And would not his death bring to my other Honoured Father great pain?'

'Yes, and so I hold my hand. And so he lives, to cause more pain. I believed him, when he said he was sorry. When he told me he loved Hutch. I let him return home, where he feels safe enough to defy me.'

Starsky kicked the bag once more. It burst open, spilling the contents all over the dojo floor.

'I'm sorry, Mariko. I'll clean it up.'

'No, no, Honoured Father. I apologize for the inferior quality of the punching bags in my humble dojo. I will replace the bag with one worthy of your attention. Please, will you not return home, and rest from your labours? Second Honoured Father should be home soon.'

Starsky laughed. 'You have a very polite way of throwing someone out of your dojo, Mariko. But Hutch is First Honoured Father, in my estimation.'

First Honoured Father was not at home, when Starsky arrived. He was out riding with Aaron. At Starsky's insistence, he had agreed to a suitable escort of guards.

'That's an army, Starsky, not an honour guard,' Hutch commented, when he caught sight of the escort of guards Starsky deemed was suitable. 'We're only going for a ride around the City, not on campaign in Germania. And the war there has been over for some time, in case you hadn't heard, my Lord.'

'You can go riding any time you please, anywhere you please, with Aaron or without Aaron. But you take the escort I choose. You have enemies, Hutch. I won't risk losing you again.'

Starsky paced up and down before the gate for a while, until he noticed the slaves eyeing him, nervously. As the head of the household, and one of the most important members of his extended familias, he had his dignity to uphold. The villa was in an uproar, with the preparations for the Yule celebration among other things, and he imagined their other house was much the same. He sought refuge in his study, and sat at the desk, to contemplate revenge.

The revenge he dreamt of, was one he could never take, as Mariko pointed out. It didn't stop him from indulging in fantasies of various horrible deaths for Hutch's parents, however. But then, Hutch's parents deserved to die.

A scratch at the study door, interrupted his dark thoughts. 'Come,' he said.

A slave entered the room, and bowed. 'Master,' she said. 'The guards at the front gate thought you would like to know that Master Kenneth is riding up the road to the villa.'

Starsky jumped to his feet. 'Is he safe?' he asked. 'No one is chasing him?'

The slave smiled. 'No Master. He is quite safe. The guards only thought you would like to greet him.'

'Thank you, Sarah,' he said. He supposed he made a fool of himself, every time Hutch was out of his sight. But could anyone blame him?

The gate opened at his order. Hutch clattered through, on his tall, black stallion, a gift from Prince Marcus, on the birth of Aaron. His nephew, the prince had declared. Aaron sat on the saddle, in front of Hutch, holding the reins in his tiny hands, though Starsky could see that Hutch had a surreptitious grip on them as well. Hutch was wearing one of his barbaric outfits, in black and scarlet. He wore a scarlet cloak, lined with fox fur, and a great deal of gold jewellery. Viggo ran beside the horse, his tongue lolling out, and their escort surrounded them, protectively. Starsky watched their faces relax, as the gate closed. No doubt they were relieved to be allowed to live, one more day.

Hutch smiled at Starsky. His eyes looked dark, though. Dark with pain. In spite of all their happiness lately, there was that cloud of sorrow, hanging overhead.

'Here, take your son,' he said. 'I need to rub down my horse. Then I need to bathe before dinner.'

Starsky caught Aaron, as the baby flung himself off the tall horse's back, with perfect trust. 'Dada,' he said. 'Rode.'

'Yes, so I see,' said Starsky. 'You're a real horseman. Soon, we'll find you your own horse.'

'Not as tall as Remus, though,' said Hutch. He dismounted, and bent to kiss Starsky. He ruffled Aaron's hair. 'You need a bath too, Monster,' he said. 'Be good, and don't argue with your father. Remember?'

'Yes, Mama,' said Aaron, the picture of innocence.

Hutch shook his head, and led Remus to the stables.

Aaron smiled up at Starsky. 'Not dirty,' he said.

'Never mind that. Monster, indeed. Mama said you're having a bath. That's final.'

Aaron's eyes turned dark, like Hutch's only a moment before. 'Mama sad,' he said. 'Boats.'

'Boats?' asked Starsky, as he carried Aaron to the bathing room. 'Boats made Mama sad?'

'Yes. Boats.' Then he jumped down out of Starsky's arms, and tried to run away. It took some time to catch him, and undress him, and put him in the bath. He protested the whole time, that he was not dirty.

Hutch chuckled from the bathing room door. 'I told you to behave,' he said.

'Am 'having,' said Aaron.

Hutch pulled off his clothes, and handed them to a servant. Then, he climbed into the tub with Aaron.

It was a large bathtub, and Starsky decided to join them. He was already soaked to the skin, from the tussle with Aaron. 'You used to like having a bath,' he reminded his son.

'Not dirty,' said the baby.

'I am,' said Hutch. He handed Aaron the shampoo. 'Here. Wash my hair,' he said, and slid down low in the tub.

Aaron happily poured shampoo over Hutch's head. Enough to shampoo an army, thought Starsky. Bubbles filled the tub, and the room began to reek of herbs, and rose petals. They all washed each other, and soon, Aaron began to look sleepy. His head drooped onto Starsky's shoulder, and Starsky climbed carefully out of the tub, and carried the baby to their bed.  
He stood for a few moments, watching his son sleep. Then he dressed, and went in search of Hutch.

Hutch was in the courtyard, sitting on his favourite bench, with Viggo at his feet.

'Beloved? It's cold outside. Come indoors?'

'In a while,' said Hutch. 'It's noisy inside. Too many people.'

'Do you want to leave the City? Ride up to the Citadel?'

Hutch swallowed, and looked down at the ground. 'Not yet,' he said, softly. Viggo whined, and licked his hand. Starsky felt like doing the same.

'Aaron said you saw boats,' he ventured.

'Yes. At Ostia. Not the right boats, though.'

Starsky drew in a sharp breath. 'Beloved,' he said again.

'They're not coming, my Lord. They're not coming. I asked all the ship owners. There aren't any ships due in harbour until next week. They're not coming.'

'I know, Hutch. We know that.'

'But I was sure. I was sure they'd change their minds. Sure they loved me enough, deep inside.'

Starsky caught Hutch in his arms, and his lover sobbed on his shoulder. 'I always had this little hope,' he gasped out. 'And now it's dead.'

'Hutch. I'm so sorry, my love. This is my fault.'

'Your fault?' asked Hutch in astonishment. He looked up, his face streaming with tears. 'How is it your fault?'

'I let your father go home. He assured me he'd be back, with your mother, in time for the wedding. I should have insisted he stay here, and send for your mother.'

A few weeks after Cecil Hutchinson's return to Norway, he had sent a politely worded letter. The letter offered congratulations on the birth of their son. Hutch's parents stated their intentions to settle a sum of money on the baby, for his future education. They would not, however, be attending the public wedding, in which David Starsky and Kenneth Hutchinson renewed their vows. The weather made it difficult to travel, in the winter, said the letter. They might pay a visit in the summer, to see Aaron.

Hutch stroked Starsky's face. 'It's not your fault, my Lord,' he said. 'Perhaps it is the weather. Who knows? I only know I'm tired of hoping, and so I've let my hope die.'

'Not all your hope, I hope?' asked Starsky. 'There are other things to hope for.' Such as the hope the Bubonic Plague might make an appearance in Norway, he thought. He could arrange for that, come to think of it. 'I have hopes we might go to bed, for a little while before dinner.'

'Not with Aaron in the bed,' said Hutch, primly. 'He's old enough to notice things. He asked me the other day, why your cock got so big, when you saw me naked.'

'What did you tell him?' asked Starsky.

'To put away his toys, and come to dinner,' said Hutch. 'That's all he needs to know.'

'There are other rooms in the villa,' Starsky pointed out. 'How about my study?'

Starsky locked the study door, and swept all his papers off his desk.

'On the desk?' asked Hutch.

'Just take off your clothes,' said Starsky. 'I want to see if it's true.... Oh, yes. You know, our son is quite observant, for his age.'

'Too observant, for his own good,' said Hutch. 'He takes after you. Come here.'

'Your cock gets big when you see me naked, too,' said Starsky.

They twined their limbs together, trying to join their bodies more closely than was humanly possible.

'Don't cry, Beloved,' said Starsky. 'There will be many, many people at our wedding.'

'But no one from my family,' said Hutch.

'Your foster family will be there. Prince Marcus. The Emperor and Empress. They love you.'

'Yes,' said Hutch.

'I love you,' said Starsky. As if to drive his point home, he sank his cock into Hutch's warm body. Deep, deep into Hutch's warm body. They rocked together, gasping and moaning, sobbing in pleasure and sorrow. Then, Hutch shuddered, and cried out Starsky's name, and some words in Norwegian that sounded obscene, and he came. Starsky felt Hutch ejaculate against his stomach, and the sensation excited him past all bearing. He let himself come, and surrendered to Hutch's arms. They lay for a while in peace.

'Now, we need another bath before dinner,' said Hutch.

********************

Starsky led the parade of his own Familias, from the villa to the older house, next door. The Great Hall, Hutch had decided to name it. It was decorated with pine branches, and wreaths of holly, and mistletoe. Candles lit up all the windows, and a Yule log burned in the huge fireplace.

Hutch met him at the door, holding Aaron in his arms. The baby looked unusually solemn, and he seemed to be watching every move of his parents. Mariko and Sweet Angel stood beside him. Prince Marcus, and the Emperor and Empress stood behind.

'I am here to claim you for my Familias,' said Starsky. His mother, his grandfather and assorted uncles and aunts said, 'Fiat!'

Hutch stepped back, and let Starsky and his supporters enter. Then he led Starsky into the Meeting Hall, as he called it. They stood before the hearth fire.

'Let all the Familias be witness,' said Starsky. 'And all our household Gods.'

'I will be witness, as well,' said a voice from the crowd. Mlukukh stepped forward. She was old, for a Goddess of Love, and her hair was nearly white, but her eyes were bright, and alert. 'Hutch told me you were getting married again. Must be some new fashion. I would have thought once did it for all time, but there! What do I know? Go on, children. Get married.'

'Thanks, Goddess,' said Starsky. 'This is the longest night of the year. It was on a long, dark night in Norway, two years ago, that I met my husband. A few days later, I claimed him for my own. I hadn't planned on marrying him that way, by capture, but I have never regretted the result. Don't think that, Hutch. Don't think I regret making you my own. But it's the duty of the head of the household to take care of his familias. To make sure they're safe.'

Starsky handed Hutch a scroll. 'It's the deed to this house,' he said. 'I'm granting you ownership, for your lifetime.'

Hutch took the scroll. He looked at it doubtfully, but he took it.

'It's a formality,' said Starsky. 'And Cynthia says it saves on taxes, if some of the property is in your name, legally.'

'Ah,' said Hutch, and he brightened. Even Hutch couldn't argue that saving on taxes wasn't a good idea.

Starsky took his hand. 'I claim you once again, for my Familias, as its most important member. My family is your family, my home is your home, my Gods are your Gods. Now, kiss me, because I still need to carry the taste of you with me into battle.'

Hutch kissed him. Starsky closed his eyes. When he opened them, Hutch was kneeling at his feet.

'Your family is my family,' he said. 'Your home is my home, and your Gods my Gods.' He looked up, and his eyes were bright with tears. 'But we go into battle together.'

'Hutch!' Starsky fell to his knees beside his lover. 'Don't put me above you.'

But Hutch was beyond hearing, or understanding. 'I didn't know,' he said. 'I didn't know there could be such love. That someone could want me, that much. How could I do anything but show you the greatest honour? And give you all I am, all I have?'

Hutch still held Aaron in his arms. Starsky wondered what the baby made of this.

'This is your son,' said Hutch. 'He was born, because your love is so strong, and that is why I still live.' Hutch reached up, and touched the patch that covered the emptiness that was one of Starsky's eyes. The eye he had traded for Hutch's life.

'You gave us both life,' said Hutch. 'I owe you all of mine. My life is yours.'

Starsky took the baby from Hutch's arms. How could he argue with Hutch's love, the depth of it, the expression of it. No more than Hutch could argue with Starsky's readiness to sacrifice his vision for Hutch.

'Your life is mine,' said Starsky. 'You belong to my familias for all time. Let no man divide us.'

'Fiat! Fiat! Fiat!'

Aaron seemed a little startled at the noise. He looked up at Starsky, his eyes deep and dark. They looked that way, sometimes.

'What is it, baby?' asked Starsky.

'Wings, Dada. I can hear wings.'

Hutch looked up, into Starsky's eyes. Wings?

'Perhaps it was a God, close by, watching over us,' suggested Hutch.

'Yes, Mama,' said Aaron. He looked around the room. 'Many Gods. And a bird. With big wings.'

'I'll keep that in mind,' said Hutch. 'Tell me if you hear the wings again.'

Mlukukh came to join them. She was smiling. 'You can get up off your knees now,' she said. 'And join the party. You're married again. Aaron is legitimate, again. The wings are gone, again. Rejoice! It is Yuletide, and the days start getting longer, after tonight. This is the longest night you get, and your best chance. Rejoice!'

Starsky laughed, and pretended to forget about the wings. It was no use wasting the longest night in the year, with fruitless worry. A bird, he thought. A bird with big wings. Perhaps he should get a big cat.

 

*** The End ***


End file.
